


Fifteen Minutes

by December21st



Category: Castle
Genre: Castleland, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/December21st/pseuds/December21st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people get fifteen minutes of fame. And some people get greedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fifteen Minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Based On" challenge at LiveJournal's Castleland. Written in 2011.

Dude, it’s an honor to meet me, right?

I’m all kinds of famous. I’m the starting quarterback for the U.N.Y. Raptors – that’s college football for all you chicks – and the pros are already arguing about who gets me. And then I’m a TV star too, I did this ad campaign for underage drinking, because I’m all for that! And finally I’m a real, honest-to-God hero. I found this one sophomore dead in the locker room, and I called the cops and waited until they showed up.

There’s this cop chick that keeps asking me questions about the dead kid, Brian or Barry or something. She’s totally into me, I can tell the way she keeps coming back to ask me more questions. I’m cool with that, she’s totally hot for someone that old. But there’s this guy that she hangs with who wrote a book or something, and everyone’s all acting like he’s the famous one, and not me. Pfft. Anyone can write a book.

I bet I could have gotten Barry or Brian or whatever his name was to write one for me before he tried blackmail me for more money or he’d tell the coach he’d been doing my homework all year. The little pipsqueak. And then, to add insult to insult, he said I was illiterate. Which is totally not true. My parents were married.

When I was waiting for the cops to show up, I suppose I should have took the note that I wrote Brian or Barry or … maybe Bill? Asking him to meet me in the locker room. But it’s not like I signed it. I just used a piece of paper from a notebook I keep on me to write down chick’s phone numbers. Oh, and to give out autographs, of course. Like the one I gave to that writer guy, just to prove to him who’s really famous around here.


End file.
